01-26-2010, 10:18 PM
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OMG HOW DARE YOU HAVE LENGTH POSTS. |: I AM OFFENDED. 909.
Perhaps one of the sadder concepts of this world in which the Luperci ruled was that so many of those scientific discoveries and that the humans had come across were largely buried in dust. Wolves and other canines had seemingly risen out of the dust of a dying world, their minds expanding and comprehending so much more in only a few short years. Some were still largely trying to come to terms with these new transformations—shown thus by the groups of non-Luperci packs that struggled in vain to protect themselves from the virus—while others had embraced it, as the civilizations in Europe showed. But it would probably be a very long time until those human things were rediscovered, or at least held in regard. Things had to be read, understood, taught, and appreciated. How long might it take for them to find the transcripts of ancient Greece and Rome? The art of the Renaissance? The ideal of rugged individualism and manifest destiny that shaped America? Such things would be as foreign as alien invaders for creatures who had been, for all of time, hunting food in packs and ordering themselves in rough hierarchies of dominance by fighting and strife.
Snake did not believe himself to be a very philosophical person, and he mostly wasn't. But he was very much so when it came to any type of violence—war, strife between species, irrational thoughts and actions of harm, he could define and speak at length about them. They were all he knew and, in truth, perhaps all he thought was truly interesting. If Strelein had posed a comment about the relationship with the idea of divinity and the presence of life on earth or something of that kind of strain, he would have stared vacantly and had nothing else to say. While they were on this topic however, he would talk as he could.
What the redheaded Cour des Miracles wolf said next was very intriguing, and Snake might have considered a Tarzan reference if he had at all been privy to that type of human lore. Regardless, he paused for a moment before saying,
Perhaps one of the darker things that came accompanying Snake's adapted way of living was that he felt that there was nothing wrong with it. In fact, if he were more arrogant, he might think himself superior. He was not tied down, he was not shackled by these things that acted like blessings but cursed the body and mind. He had transcended, perhaps—or even maybe descended. Whatever the case was, one could not change without admitting there was a problem, and Snake saw absolutely no problem with his strict survivalist state of mind.
There was a vague smile once more on his stony expression, but he knew that what Strelein said about Snake attacking him was totally false. Snake had been trained expressively to let the opponent strike first, and to use their movements against them. He would initiate a fight well enough, but it was always left up to the opponent to make the first move. If necessary, he would feign a strike in order to make whomever he was against react, thus allowing the counterattack. Seeing as though Strelein seemed mostly peaceful, Snake doubted that he would ever have had the opportunity to do so.
The blond coyote originally nodded when the wolf asked him if he was a fighter by training—or perhaps nature?—though he was silent for a moment to consider the other questions. His twin brother had derived pleasure from fighting, from harming, from blood and sobs and cries and death. How Foxhound enjoyed it was largely why Snake made sure he did not. He found that that bloodthirsty berserker state was bad for the fighting psyche. He thought that he might surprise the wolf with the truth—and perhaps disturb him a little. Many would find themselves a little estranged with Snake after realizing truths about him. He was a nice guy, but pretty messed up.
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OMG HOW DARE YOU HAVE LENGTH POSTS. |: I AM OFFENDED. 909.
Perhaps one of the sadder concepts of this world in which the Luperci ruled was that so many of those scientific discoveries and that the humans had come across were largely buried in dust. Wolves and other canines had seemingly risen out of the dust of a dying world, their minds expanding and comprehending so much more in only a few short years. Some were still largely trying to come to terms with these new transformations—shown thus by the groups of non-Luperci packs that struggled in vain to protect themselves from the virus—while others had embraced it, as the civilizations in Europe showed. But it would probably be a very long time until those human things were rediscovered, or at least held in regard. Things had to be read, understood, taught, and appreciated. How long might it take for them to find the transcripts of ancient Greece and Rome? The art of the Renaissance? The ideal of rugged individualism and manifest destiny that shaped America? Such things would be as foreign as alien invaders for creatures who had been, for all of time, hunting food in packs and ordering themselves in rough hierarchies of dominance by fighting and strife.
Snake did not believe himself to be a very philosophical person, and he mostly wasn't. But he was very much so when it came to any type of violence—war, strife between species, irrational thoughts and actions of harm, he could define and speak at length about them. They were all he knew and, in truth, perhaps all he thought was truly interesting. If Strelein had posed a comment about the relationship with the idea of divinity and the presence of life on earth or something of that kind of strain, he would have stared vacantly and had nothing else to say. While they were on this topic however, he would talk as he could.
What the redheaded Cour des Miracles wolf said next was very intriguing, and Snake might have considered a Tarzan reference if he had at all been privy to that type of human lore. Regardless, he paused for a moment before saying,
I do not believe wolves and coyotes are fundamentally different enough to cause an issue there, but it would be a change that only the individual would notice. And perhaps then the pack would, and it would alienate him.As he said it, a chill came over him, as if someone had passed over his grave. He realized that this was very much how he felt most of the time. He had joined Inferni thinking it would be similar to New Haven, seeing only his own kind and nothing else. But then he had noticed the intense differences, and had grown somewhat strange with them. He assumed he appeared that way as well. Sometimes Snake felt quite ostracized from the inner tight-knit community that made up the coyote clan, but he did not mind. It was an exile that he himself enjoyed. He was not like them. He probably never would be. He accepted that.
Perhaps one of the darker things that came accompanying Snake's adapted way of living was that he felt that there was nothing wrong with it. In fact, if he were more arrogant, he might think himself superior. He was not tied down, he was not shackled by these things that acted like blessings but cursed the body and mind. He had transcended, perhaps—or even maybe descended. Whatever the case was, one could not change without admitting there was a problem, and Snake saw absolutely no problem with his strict survivalist state of mind.
There was a vague smile once more on his stony expression, but he knew that what Strelein said about Snake attacking him was totally false. Snake had been trained expressively to let the opponent strike first, and to use their movements against them. He would initiate a fight well enough, but it was always left up to the opponent to make the first move. If necessary, he would feign a strike in order to make whomever he was against react, thus allowing the counterattack. Seeing as though Strelein seemed mostly peaceful, Snake doubted that he would ever have had the opportunity to do so.
The blond coyote originally nodded when the wolf asked him if he was a fighter by training—or perhaps nature?—though he was silent for a moment to consider the other questions. His twin brother had derived pleasure from fighting, from harming, from blood and sobs and cries and death. How Foxhound enjoyed it was largely why Snake made sure he did not. He found that that bloodthirsty berserker state was bad for the fighting psyche. He thought that he might surprise the wolf with the truth—and perhaps disturb him a little. Many would find themselves a little estranged with Snake after realizing truths about him. He was a nice guy, but pretty messed up.
I don't enjoy it, and I do not gain any pleasure by hurting or saving others,he said, carefully leaving out that he didn't really "enjoy" anything.
I don't hate it either. It's what I do, and I do it well. I suppose in that case it might give me a place in life, but in the end it's all about survival. The meaning of life is to live. Simple as that.He glanced away, a dark shadow passing over his olive eyes.